


Changes

by ghost_writer26 (kinksock22)



Series: Curse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst, Awesome Bobby, Bottom Sam, Established Relationship, Hurt Sam, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mention of Heat, Mpreg, Omega Sam, Self-Lubrication, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/ghost_writer26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets hurt on a hunt and they have to stop avoiding Bobby and finally tell him the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> I have never been pregnant or given birth, so I’m making shit up as I go. Please excuse any glaring mistakes.
> 
> Written on 01/20/14 on livejournal under ghost_writer26. Un-beta'd.

Dean walks into their motel of the week, take-out container in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other and a plastic bag from the grocery store cutting off circulation in his wrist. At four months pregnant, Sam is past the terrible first trimester morning sickness stage and onto the terribly cliché cravings stage. Dean thinks it’s absolutely fucking hilarious, even when he gets the full force of Sam’s epic bitch-face when he laughs about it.  
  
The truth is, while it  _is_  funny as fuck, he’s just so stupidly grateful that Sam’s not so sick anymore. They slowed down on hunting a lot, Sam too sick and Dean too freaked out to really do much. They’ve avoided Bobby and Ellen and anyone else they know as best as they can, moving state to state, holing up in motel rooms for a week or two at a time. They’ve taken care of a few hauntings – simple salt ‘n burns that Sammy could’ve done when he was nine – and that’s pretty much about it.  
  
The first three months of Sam’s pregnancy were horrible. He threw up everything he put into his body, even water, and he lost weight alarmingly fast. He was tired and sore all the time, his cheeks gaunt and his long, already lean frame damn-near skin and bones by the time he hit twelve weeks.  
  
It scared the ever living fuck out of Dean, leaving him to sit and stare helplessly at his baby brother as he heaved violently, only comfort he was able to provide his arm around Sam’s chest and his hand pushing back his hair. And sadly enough that was the only time Sam really let Dean touch him, or even be near him. Apparently, Dean’s scent was too much for Sam’s queasy stomach.  
  
Sam’s hormones also went crazy for the first three months. He’d cry at the drop of a hat and most days he hated Dean with a passion that he’d never thought his brother capable of. He’d scream and cry and throw things, face a mess with tears and snot – Sam never was a pretty crier – then collapse on the mattress and curl into a ball, silent sobs wracking his whole body.  
  
There was a transitional period between three and four months where the throwing up slowed down and Sam was able to start eating – and putting on weight to Dean’s delight and Sam’s disgust. He’d still have his bouts of crying and hating Dean but they got fewer and further between and he finally was able to be near Dean and not puke from his scent.  
  
Now at four months, Sam’s happy – but still tired – and he’s put back on the weight he lost and then some and they’re getting along better. Sam’s got the most adorable little bump and he’s honest-to-God glowing and Dean’s never seen him look so beautiful.  
  
But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to kill him when he wakes Dean up at three o’clock in the damn morning to send him on a food run because, “Your son’s hungry, De.”  
  
Truth is, they don’t know what Sam’s having. They went to a doctor once, just enough to get the damn prenatal medicine Sam would need and to make sure he was able to even continue the pregnancy – as an alpha turned omega, they honestly weren’t sure he’d even be able to carry the child. But Sam’s taken to referring to the baby as a boy for some damn unknown reason, just states that it’s ‘instinct’. Dean thinks he’s full of shit and refers to the baby as a girl just to be contrary and piss Sam off.  
  
Dean drops the load of crap onto the table and turns toward the bed, his gaze softening and a smile curling up his lips at the sight before him. Sam’s curled up on his side, one hand covering the soft swell of his belly, sound asleep. A few soft strands of his hair have fallen into his eyes and there’s a small, content smile curling up his lips. He looks so freaking adorable that Dean can’t even be pissed that Sam sent him out to get food but didn’t wait up until he got back.  
  
He quietly puts everything away and strips back down to nothing, curling up behind his brother, his hand resting over Sam’s on his belly.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Dean wakes up the next morning to Sam reclining against the headboard, naked as the day he was born, eating cookie dough ice cream straight out of the tub. Sam looks down at him, his sticky-sweet lips curling up into a smile. “Mornin’, sleepy head,” he greets brightly.  
  
Dean groans and buries his head under the pillow. Sam – the bastard – just chuckles.  
  
“Time s’it?” Dean mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow.  
  
“Seven thirty.”  
  
“Go back’ta sleep, Sammy. ‘s too early.”  
  
“No it’s not.”  
  
“It is when I was up at three gettin’ you food.”  
  
Sam pulls the pillow off his head and bends down to press a kiss to the side of his lips. “And I love you for it,” he grins. “But ‘m up now. So get up.”  
  
Dean glares at his brother, reminding himself that he’s pregnant and hormonal and apparently fucking bat-shit crazy. “Just ‘cause you’re up doesn’t mean that I have’ta be.”  
  
Sam pouts around the spoon between his lips, those lethal puppy dog eyes of doom staring right back at Dean. “But,” he whines. “I don’t wanna hang out by myself with nothin’ to do.”  
  
“Then get on the computer and find us a hunt. Or look at porn. I don’t really care. Just lemme freakin’ sleep, Sam.”  
  
Big, fat tears well up in Sam’s eyes and his lower lip quivers. Dean huffs a sigh and pushes himself up, sitting against the headboard next to his brother, knowing without a doubt that he won’t be able to go back to sleep now. “What is it, Sammy?” he asks softly.  
  
Sam just sniffles and curls up against Dean’s side, the ice cream container cold where he’s got it resting on Dean’s stomach. Dean sighs and tangles one hand in the messy waves of Sam’s hair, scratching randomly at his scalp. Sam damn-near purrs, snuggling closer, his ice cream completely forgotten apparently.  
  
“Now that you’re feelin’ better, I was kinda serious ‘bout tryin’ to find a hunt,” Dean says softly after a while, alternating between running his fingers through Sam’s hair and scratching his scalp. “What’d’ya think?”  
  
“Mmm, don’t care,” Sam mutters. “Long as it’s not too hard’a one, I should be okay.”  
  
“Maybe we should call Bobby and see what he’s got,” Dean says carefully, biting his bottom lip, prepared to get yelled at. Every time he’s mentioned seeing or talking to Bobby in the last few months, Sam has freaked out, scared to let their surrogate father know that he’s pregnant.  
  
The only response he gets is a soft snore and Sam’s hand tipping to the side, melted ice cream spilling over Dean’s stomach.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
The next day, Dean finds them a hunt a few hours outside Sioux Falls. Sam doesn’t question the location, just shrugs and folds himself in the car. It’s supposed to be just a simple salt n’ burn, the kind they’ve been doing since they found out about the baby but Dean should’ve known that their luck wouldn’t hold out forever.  
  
Dean’s digging – there’s no way in hell he’d let Sam do it – and Sam’s standing watch, sawed-off in hand. Just as he hears the scrape of metal against metal and mutters “Yahtzee” he hears the unmistakable sound of Sam crying out, then a grunt of pain. He scrambles out of the grave, his heart in his stomach when he sees Sam on his side and a pissed off spirit with her fingers in his chest. Dean runs forward, sliding on his knees in the mud, and grabs the shot gun, hitting her square in the face with a round of rock salt.  
  
There’s a gash on Sam’s forehead and he’s got both arms wrapped around his stomach, and he’s out cold. Dean rips his t-shirt open and his jaw clenches when he sees five perfectly round holes where the spirit’s fingers where pushing into his brother’s heart, the skin red and raw.  
  
Tears blind him for a moment and his fingers shake when he reaches for Sam’s neck, a burst of air exploding from his own chest when he feels the slow, weak pulse beneath his fingers. “Just hold on a few minutes for me, baby,” he rasps, tone harsh and low.  
  
He runs back to the grave and jumps down into it, splitting open the coffin as quickly as he can, pouring gas and salt liberally over the remains. When he climbs out again, the spirit is back, quickly advancing on his fallen brother. Dean shoots her again before dropping a book of matches in the hole, watching in satisfaction as it goes up in flames.  
  
Dean carries a still unresponsive Sam to the Impala while he lets the body burn, stretching Sam out on the backseat. He quickly finishes up, throwing the dirt back in the hole as fast as he can, his heart pounding and his stomach rolling. He wants to take Sam to a hospital but there’s no way to explain the holes in his chest or the fact that he’s had no prenatal care in the last four months.  
  
Once he’s back in the car, he glances back at Sam once more, getting even more worried at the pale look of his face. With a sigh, he starts the car and tears out of the graveyard, heading to the only other place he can think to take Sam. He just hopes that his brother forgives him and that Bobby isn’t too mad. He hates that the older hunter has to find out this way but he needs help right now, can’t even get his brain working enough to even know where to start to make sure his brother’s okay.  
  
It’s late when he pulls into Singer Auto Salvage but Dean can’t even bring himself to care. He kicks at the door, his whole body shaking, Sam limp and barely breathing in his arms. Bobby flings the door open, the muzzle of a shot gun pointed right at Dean’s face.  
  
“Jesus fuck, boy,” Bobby gasps, lowering the gun and taking a good look at Dean, then Sam. “Well, shit. C’mon, git ‘im in here.”  
  
Dean stumbles into the living room and gently lays Sam down on the couch then turns to Bobby, a single tear finally breaking loose to track down his cheek. “Hunt,” Dean blurts out. “Help him.”  
  
Bobby takes a second to grab both of Dean’s shoulders and shake him. “Calm down, son,” he commands. “Take a breath and tell me what happened. I can’t help your brother if I don’t know what’s goin’ on.”  
  
Dean does as he’s told, taking a deep, shaky breath before he tells Bobby what happened. Bobby nods and sends him to get the first aid kit from the closet and some fresh towels and hot water. Dean feels better, clearer, having orders to follow and someone else to call the shots. He may be responsible for Sam, may not want anyone else to take care of him, but right now, Dean  _needs_  someone else to be in charge for once. And he trusts Sam with Bobby just like he would with their father.  
  
Bobby’s kneeling next to the couch, Sam’s t-shirt cut away completely, and he’s resting one hand on the swell of Sam’s stomach. Dean stops short, his heart skipping a beat even as his inner alpha roars at the sight of another alpha touching his mate, his unborn child. Bobby looks up at him, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes.  
  
“You weren’t gonna tell me?”  
  
“I wanted to,” Dean says softly, almost a whisper. “Sammy… Sammy was scared.”  
  
Bobby narrows his eyes and takes the first aid kit from Dean’s nerveless, limp fingers and sets to patching Sam up. Dean stumbles forward on shaky legs and collapses on the couch, pulling Sam’s head into his lap, running his fingers through Sam’s hair just how he knows his mate likes.  
  
“When’d this happen?” Bobby asks, tone almost neutral as he focuses on Sam’s chest, not glancing at Dean once.  
  
“Four months ago. The shifter hunt that you finished for us,” Dean replies automatically, not looking away from Sam either.  
  
“And you had him out huntin’?”  
  
“We… We haven’t been doin’ much. Just some salt n’ burns. Sam… He was really sick the first three months.”  
  
Bobby finishes up and packs everything away, only then looking up at Dean again. “He’ll be alright,” the older hunter assures softly. “Just needs some rest,” he pauses, heaving a sigh, “And you and I need’ta talk.”  
  
“But…”  
  
“No buts, boy,” Bobby growls. “You let him be right now. Let him rest.”  
  
Dean nods and dips his head down, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Rest, Sammy,” he whispers. “’mma go talk to Bobby, okay?”  
  
Dean gets up and after one last look at his brother, follows Bobby into the kitchen.  
  
They settle at the table and Dean drags his thumbnail over a scar in the wood, not looking up at Bobby. “Ignoring the fact that you knocked him up during his second heat,” Bobby starts gruffly, “And then the two’a you hid it from me for months, you know that he’s in no condition to hunt.”  
  
“I didn’t think this would happen,” Dean mutters, glancing up at their second father through his lashes. “You think I’d’a taken him out if I thought he’d get hurt? It was a damn salt n’ burn!”  
  
“Which obviously wasn’t so damn simple,” Bobby snaps back. “ _Any_  hunt has the potential to go sideways, Dean. You know that. Hell, your daddy and I taught you that.”  
  
“So what’re we supposed to do? Hang it up?”  
  
“Until the pup is born, at the very least, that’s exactly what you should do,” Bobby sighs and pulls his hat off, rubbing at the top of his head then puts it back on, “I… I always wanted more for you boys than this,” he continues softly. “John didn’t agree and that’s one’a the biggest things we fought over. You have a mate now, son. A pregnant mate. I know you love hunting but that’s gotta come first,  _they_  gotta come first…”  
  
“Sam’s always been my priority,” Dean interrupts, his voice low and hard.  
  
“I know that, Dean,” Bobby sighs, “But it’s… It’s gotta be more’n what you did before now. It’s not just the two’a you anymore. You have a pup on the way. Do you really wanna do that to your child? Raise him the way you were raised? Risk him losin’ one or the both’a you like you and Sam have?”  
  
“I… I don’t know what to do,” Dean admits weakly.  
  
“Yes you do,” Bobby counters. “You’ve always been the one to take care’a Sam. You raised him as best as you could, given the circumstances. And you did a helluva job with him, Dean. But… Don’t make the same mistakes your daddy did. Don’t walk in his footsteps. It doesn’t have to be all or nothin’, son. Build a life for you and Sam and your kid. Hunt in between if that’s what you want. But be a mate and a father first.”  
  
Dean gives Bobby a small, watery smile, wondering for a moment if their dad was still alive if that would be his advice. Dean doesn’t think so.  
  
“I know why you do what you do,” Bobby continues carefully. “’s why most’a the hunters I know get inta the life. But do you think Mary would’a wanted this for you and Sam? For her grandchild? Hunt if you want because it’s the right thing to do, not for revenge. Mourn her but don’t neglect the living. Be better’n me and John.”  
  
“What should I do?”  
  
“Like I said, build a life, a safe, normal life, for the three’a you. Go on hunts sometimes. You can balance both, Dean.”  
  
“De…”  
  
Dean snaps his head toward the living room, the sound of his little brother’s voice calling out to him. Bobby smirks – Dean can hear it in his tone – when he says, “Go on. Check on your mate. But,” he adds when Dean gets up, “Don’t think you’re off the hook for the rest’a it, boy. Not tellin’ me and doin’ it in the first place. We still need’ta talk about that.”  
  
“Yessir,” Dean mutters, already on his way toward the living room.  
  
Sam looks up at him, pain and confusion darkening his eyes. “De?”  
  
“Hey, baby boy,” Dean says softly, dropping down on his knees next to the couch, one hand pushing the hair off Sam’s forehead. “How you feelin’?”  
  
“Like crap,” Sam murmurs. “What happened?”  
  
“The spirit showed up,” Dean sighs, still carding his hand through Sam’s hair. “She, uh, she threw you and then tried to sink her fingers into your chest.” Sam’s eyes widen and he tries to sit up. “Hey, easy,” Dean soothes.  
  
“Baby,” Sam gasps, his hands immediately going to his belly.  
  
“The baby’s fine,” Dean assures, hoping like hell he’s right. It’s not exactly like Bobby has the equipment to check. “You were the one who got hurt.”  
  
Sam frowns, his brow furrowed, as he finally looks around them. “You brought me to Bobby’s?!” he hisses.  
  
“I had’ta, Sammy,” Dean whispers. “You… You were out cold and I couldn’t take you to a hospital…”  
  
“But he… the baby…”  
  
“Shh,” Dean coos. “’s okay. He was more mad at me for takin’ you on a hunt. He’s upset that we didn’t tell him but he’s not mad at you. Not at all.”  
  
“I don’t want him to be mad at you either,” Sam frowns.  
  
“Hey, kiddo,” Bobby says fondly, walking up behind Dean, laying one hand one Sam’s shoulder. “Gave your brother and me quite a scare. You okay?”  
  
Sam looks up at Bobby, his eyes wide, and nods. “’m okay,” he whispers. “A little sore.”  
  
“You need’ta get some more rest. Both of you,” Bobby adds pointedly. “Your room’s upstairs. You know the way.” With one last smile, Bobby turns toward the stairs and heads up to his own bedroom.  
  
“See?” Dean asks around a smug smirk. “He’s not mad at you.”  
  
~~~~~~  
  
After getting Sam tucked in and curling up around him, holding him with both arms wrapped around him, his hand on Sam’s belly, Dean doesn’t really remember falling asleep. He honestly didn’t think he’d be able to, his mind going a million miles a minute with all the things he and Bobby had talked about and his heart still pounding jack-rabbit fast against his ribcage. But when he opens his eyes again, there is sunlight shining in the window and the bed beside him is empty.  
  
He sits straight up in bed, his heart pounding against his ribs again, fear trickling down his spine. Before he can even think of all the possibilities of why Sam isn’t there with him, his brother pushes open the door to their room, the smile on his face when he first saw Dean was up falling away quickly. He rushes across the room and plops down on the mattress, one big hand cupping Dean’s jaw.  
  
“De? What’s wrong?”  
  
“I… You… Where were you?” Dean manages to ask finally, his heart still beating too hard and his breathing harsh and uneven.  
  
“I had’ta pee,” Sam says slowly, carefully, “And I was hungry. I went downstairs.”  
  
“Don’t do that,” Dean snaps. Sam’s eyes widen and he pulls back a bit, his lips falling open. “Fuck, ‘m sorry, Sammy,” Dean mutters, reaching out to wrap both arms around his brother and pull him close again. “Just… It scared me when I woke up and you weren’t here.”  
  
“’m sorry, Dean,” Sam says softly, nuzzling under Dean’s jaw.  
  
“’s okay, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Dean tugs gently on Sam until he gets the hint and crawls back in bed with Dean, curling up against his side. “How’re you feelin’ today?” Dean asks quietly, his heart and breathing finally calming down now that Sam’s in his arms.  
  
“Mm, better,” Sam murmurs, sliding his arm across Dean’s waist. “Horny,” he adds softly, nipping at Dean’s jaw.  
  
Dean chuckles softly and squeezes his arms around Sam tighter. “And you know I’d love’ta help you out with that. But Bobby…”  
  
“Is gone,” Sam interrupts, his hand sliding down to cup Dean’s cock through his boxer briefs. “Left while I was eatin’. Said he’d be in town a few hours…” Sam trails off, his pregnancy making him a little scatter-brained, his focus shifting easily. His lips trail down Dean’s neck, sucking softly on his pulse as his hand on Dean’s cock kneads his quickly hardening flesh. “Want you, big brother,” he murmurs, his hips thrusting against Dean’s thigh, rubbing his hard cock along the muscle.  
  
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean growls.  
  
“Mmhmm,” Sam hums. “That’s the idea.” Sam slides one long leg over Dean’s, essentially humping his thigh, as he trails his lips back up to the sensitive spot behind Dean’s ear. “Wanna ride you,” he murmurs.  
  
Another surprisingly awesome side-affect to Sam getting past his first trimester is the fact that he’s horny all the time. Dean certainly isn’t complaining about the increase in sex. He loves when Sam gets like this, wanton and needy. He pulls back from his assault on Dean’s neck, blinking wide, lust-blown yet innocent, warm hazel eyes at him. “Can I, De?” he asks softly, a perfect mixture of innocence and debauchery.  
  
“Like you hafta ask,” Dean replies, sliding his hand down Sam’s back, his palm fitting perfectly over the rounded swell of Sam’s ass. “Get naked for me, sweetheart.”  
  
Sam shifts away long enough to rip off his t-shirt and push his sweats down his legs. Dean gets caught up in watching for a moment, mesmerized as always by all that tan skin over rippling muscle and the added swell of Sam’s stomach. As he’s discovering, he’s developing quite the pregnancy kink… Or well, a  _Sam_  being pregnant kink.  
  
Sam smirks at him when he notices Dean staring, shifting up onto his knees, his body bare, letting Dean look his fill for a moment. But Sam’s patience is even worse now than it was before so it doesn’t last long. He tugs pointedly at the sweats Dean wore to bed, spit-slick lips pulled down into a pout. “You too,” he mutters.  
  
Dean lifts his hips and shoves the sweats down, his turn to smirk when Sam’s eyes widen when he sees that Dean’s not wearing anything underneath the soft cotton. “Dean,” he breathes.  
  
Dean reaches out and grabs Sam around the waist, urging him closer. Sam throws one leg over Dean’s, settling down with his ass resting on Dean’s thighs, their hard lengths brushing together. It draws a moan from them both and Dean grabs Sam’s ass in both hands, guiding his hips to rock down a bit. The sweet burst of friction makes his head spin, so good but not nearly enough. He can never get enough of Sam.  
  
His hands slide over the perfect curve of Sam’s ass, pulling the muscular globes apart, staring up at Sam when his little brother gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. Dean readjusts his grip, his thumbs sliding into the cleft, and pulls again, knows that he’s stretching Sam’s rim. Sam keens above him, his hips circling even though Sam doesn’t seem aware of the movement. Dean lets go and slides two fingers around Sam’s slick entrance, the muscle loose and pliant beneath his touch, Sam’s slick practically pouring out of him.  
  
“Please,” Sam gasps, his head falling back, exposing the long, lean column of his throat, Dean’s mating bite completely visible and something snaps in Dean, something dark and primal and damn-near feral. His inner alpha howls, preening at his mark on his mate, at the sight of his swollen middle, the proof of Dean’s prowess.  
  
Dean shuffles back awkwardly until he’s sitting up against the headboard completely, Sam still astride him. Sam’s whimpering softly, his hips thrusting back between the teasing fingers along his hole and the friction on his cock. “De… C’mon. N-need you,” Sam rasps.  
  
Dean grabs Sam’s waist with one hand and steadies his own length with the other, urging Sam back and down onto his cock. “Go on, take it.”  
  
Sam inhales deeply and lets his weight drop, impaling himself fully. Dean clenches his jaw, his teeth grinding together almost painfully at the sudden sensation of overwhelming tight, wet heat. “Jesus  _fuck_ ,” Dean growls, his fingers digging into Sam’s hips hard enough that his knuckles are starting to ache, likely leaving behind mottled, finger-shaped bruises on the smooth, creamy flesh.  
  
Sam’s chest is heaving, his head hanging down between his shoulders, his chin almost touching his chest, and Dean can see that his eyes are squeezed closed. There’s a fine, barely-there tremble running through Sam’s long frame and for a moment, Dean panics.  
  
“Baby? You okay?”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Sam hums. He inhales deeply, exhales slowly, and picks his head back up, lust-blown hazel eyes turned a dark, stormy-green, intense where they’re locked onto Dean’s. “Feels amazin’,” he rasps. “So big. So full.”  
  
Dean relaxes as Sam’s muscles do, his hands sliding up Sam’s sides, down around his belly. Sam smirks at him, one eyebrow raised. Dean narrows his eyes in return and thrusts his hips up, knowing he’s in the perfect position to nail Sam’s prostate. Sam cries out, his cock twitching against the soft swell of his stomach and it’s Dean’s turn to smirk. It probably shouldn’t be like this, their mating adding a new level to their already screwed up sibling rivalry, but it does and Dean can’t bring himself to want to change it. He loves the fact that he hasn’t lost his brother by taking him as a mate.  
  
Sam tries to give him a bitch-face or a glare – Dean’s not sure which one he’s going for – but whatever look he’s trying for it loses all its meaning due to the need and lust and love swirling in those warm, tip-tilted eyes.  
  
Dean smiles up at Sam, his hands returning to his hips, and silently urges Sam into a rhythm. Sam sighs softly and picks it up, his hips rolling naturally, his rim dragging along the length of Dean’s shaft, his smooth inner muscles fluttering and rippling softly around his swollen cock-head. It feels fucking fantastic, just like always, but as Dean’s eyes slide up Sam’s chest and he sees the white gauze over his left pec, Dean’s heart slams against his ribs. Knowing what’s under that white patch, knowing that if he’d been slower, if he hadn’t reacted the way he did, if he hadn’t brought Sam here, he could have lost his brother, his mate, his _everything_ , makes his breath hitch in his chest, his grip on Sam tightening even more.  
  
Ever in-tune with each other, Sam sees the moment Dean freaks, one huge hand sliding up over Dean’s chest, pressing down hard against his thundering heart. “’s okay,” Sam whispers. “ _I’m_  okay,” his other hand slides over his stomach, “We’re okay. Stop it, Dean.”  
  
“Sammy,” Dean breathes, pulling his brother as close as possible, crushing him against his chest.  
  
Sam doesn’t break rhythm, shifting slightly, flexing his hips just barely, but Dean knows he’s hitting Sam’s sweet spot with the new angle perfectly, Sam keening softly against his ear. After a moment, Sam palms the back of Dean’s head, holding him close, his face buried in Sam’s neck. Sam drops his head as well, tucking his face against the crook of Dean’s shoulder, mouthing softly at this collarbone. “Dean,” he breathes and Dean feels himself calming down a bit, Sam wrapped tight around him, being surrounded by all things Sammy, helps immensely.  
  
Dean closes his eyes and lets Sam take the lead completely, Sam’s hips grinding down against his, circling in almost-frantic figure-eights. “You close?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Sam’s pounding pulse.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam whispers back. “C’mon, big brother. Knot me.”  
  
Dean growls when his knot swells fast, the sensation leaving him dizzy and even more lightheaded. Sam gasps, his thighs tightening around Dean’s hips as he forces himself down even further, Dean’s swollen flesh popping through the still deliciously tight rim of his entrance. Sam cries out softly once they tie, Dean’s knot pressing against his prostate as the first wave of Dean’s release hits his fluttering channel. Dean moans, his arms tightening around Sam to the point that it has to be a little painful.  
  
“Come,” Dean chokes out. “Come for me, little brother.”  
  
Sam grunts, a whimpery, breathy whine falling from his lips as Dean feels his cock twitch between their sweaty stomachs, Sam’s release almost scalding-hot even on his overheated flesh. Sam rocks through the trembling release and aftershocks, collapsing against Dean’s chest once he’s done, his body still twitching and shivering slightly.  
  
Dean closes his eyes and leans his head back against the headboard, smiling when Sam lets out a contented little sigh and turns his head so that his cheek is resting on Dean’s shoulder, his hand resting on Dean’s other shoulder, fingers drawing protection sigils on Dean’s sweat-slick skin.  
  
“Are you okay?” Sam asks softly after a few long minutes of silence, both of them trying to get their breathing and heartbeats back into a more healthy rhythm.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean sighs and slides his hand up Sam’s spine, his fingers ending up in the back of Sam’s hair. “Sorry. Just… Nothin’.”  
  
Sam huffs a sigh and Dean doesn’t need to be able to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to do that,” Sam says softly, carefully.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Pretend. ‘specially not with me. It’s okay to show feelings, emotions.”  
  
“Sammy,” Dean sighs again, a warning this time.  
  
Sam pulls back slightly, just enough to look Dean in the eye without tugging on the knot still tying them together. “’m serious, De. It’s okay to feel things, to even show that you are. You have no problem showing love or lust but if you’re hurt or scared, you back off. I… I know that you’re my big brother, and my alpha now, but that doesn’t mean that you have to shield me from everything. I’m your mate, Dean. You can lean on me if you need.”  
  
Dean silently searches Sam’s eyes for a moment, his heart still pounding in his chest but for a different reason this time. “I just… The thought’a losin’ you…” Dean trails off, shaking his head. “Scares the crap outta me. Always has.”  
  
“I know, Dean,” Sam smiles and presses a kiss to the side of Dean’s lips. “But ‘m okay. Gonna take more’n some pissed-off ghost to take me down. ‘specially when I know you got my back.”  
  
Dean slides his hand up Sam’s spine, silently urging him to lay back down against his chest. He closes his eyes again and cards his fingers through Sam’s sweat-damp hair. “Still scares me,” he says softly. “I…I love you, Sammy.”  
  
“Love you, too,” Sam whispers back and Dean can hear the smile in his tone. He really doesn’t say that as much as he should but deep down, he knows that Sam knows. “We got through this one. Let’s just focus on that,” Sam adds, a yawn breaking through at the end. “Sleepy,” he mutters.  
  
Dean smiles and turns his head enough to press a kiss to Sam’s temple. “Rest, baby boy.”  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Once his knot deflates enough to pull away, Dean leaves Sam spread out, asleep and sated, in bed in their room, and heads downstairs, looking for something to eat himself. As he’s making a sandwich, the front door opens and Bobby shuffles in, his arms filled with books and bags. Dean rushes to help him, smirking at the older hunter. “What’s all this?”  
  
“Baby stuff,” Bobby grumbles. “Books and shit that I figure you’ll need. Or that I might need. Hell, I don’t know,” he huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean can’t quite stop the chuckle that bursts out of him, laughing even harder when Bobby glares at him. “Shuddup, boy,” he growls. “That kid’s my grandchild and I figure we need’ta be prepared.”  
  
“Bobby…” Dean starts, the laughter dying instantly.  
  
“You’re stayin’ here ‘til you figure the rest out,” Bobby states, tone leaving no room for argument. “I can keep an eye on Sam if you wanna hunt but I don’t think you should, not right now. But that’s not up’ta me to decide. Once the kid comes, you can either stay here or find someplace in town to live and work.”  
  
“Bobby…” Dean tries again, overcome with emotion.  
  
“Just… I know that you two can’t do this on your own right now,” Bobby says softly. “And like I said, I… That’s my grandkid. Just like the two’a you are my boys. I know you won’t wanna stay here forever, but I still want you close. You and Sam can get jobs in town, a house, and if you wanna hunt every now and then, I can watch the rug-rat.”  
  
“Th-“ Dean stops to clear his too-tight throat, “Thank you,” he rasps. “That… that means a lot.”  
  
Bobby nods and points a finger at Dean, “Like I told you when you mated, I don’t wanna know about it or hear it. I figure I can’t tell ya not to do it in the house but I don’t wanna be aware of it.”  
  
Dean smirks and nods, “Yessir.”  
  
“And you’re still in trouble for not tellin’ me in the first place. And for not thinkin’ ahead to put your brother on birth control.”  
  
Dean flops down into a chair at the kitchen table, waiting until Bobby does the same. “Honestly, I wanted to tell you. But like I said, Sammy was scared. He thought you’d be mad or upset…”  
  
“I am,” Bobby cuts in.  
  
“With him,” Dean clarifies.  
  
“That’s silly,” Bobby frowns. “’s not his fault. He was in heat and couldn’t control it. Now you on the other hand, you should’a thought ahead and figured out a way to get some damn birth control.”  
  
“I know,” Dean sighs, shaking his head. “But ya know… It may not’ve been the best timing, but I can’t be upset that it happened.”  
  
“Well of course not,” Bobby replies. “’s your kid. You can’t regret that. No matter how fucked up the situation is that lead to his conception.” Bobby frowns again, his head tilting to the side. “Is Sam seein’ a doctor?”  
  
“Once, when we first found out. Needed to get the prenatal medicine and to find out if he was okay.”  
  
“He needs constant care, Dean,” Bobby points out. “I got a friend, a doctor. Her mate’s a hunter so she knows the life. I’ll give her a call and have her come check on Sam.”  
  
“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean sighs. “That’s awesome. And it’ll make me feel better. ‘specially after last night.”  
  
Bobby pushes himself up out of the chair and claps Dean on the shoulder. “I’ll go give her a call now. You go tell Sam what’s going on.”  
  
Dean nods, sitting there for a moment to watch Bobby leave the room, heading toward his library, still overcome with emotion. He honestly hadn’t known what they were going to do in the next few months and he’s extremely grateful to Bobby for coming up with the perfect solution for now when he couldn’t. Now, he just needs to tell Sam and pray that his mate is on board.


End file.
